


Breaking Tradition

by pasiphile



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU, F/F, Lesbian Vampires, gothic horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:30:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasiphile/pseuds/pasiphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a young innocent maiden falls prey to the wiles of a seductive licentious vampire. Or is it the other way around?<br/>(AKA an unholy fusion of Carmilla and Dracula, Discworld-style)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: reference to sexual harrassment, brief bit of dubcon

It was a dark and stormy night.

In theory this might sound dramatic, but for Polly it mostly meant that her previously comfortable and warm clothing was now soaked down to her underwear, and that her once sturdy boots had turned into twin little swamps.

 _Squelch_ , her boot went. _Shplot_.

This was not how she had imagined adventure. Adventure was supposed to be exciting and novel. She had a vague suspicion there should be swashbuckling involved, although she wouldn't know how to buckle a swash if she saw one.

But adventure should not entail mud, of that she was certain. Or blisters. Or a disconcerting clammy feeling in one's nether regions.

Thunder rolled in the distance. Polly closed her eyes in exasperation. She'd passed the last village over three hours ago, thinking she could get to the next before nightfall, yet here she was, in the middle of nowhere, not another person in sight, with a thunderstorm lurking on the horizon.

Lightning flashed. Polly looked up and for one second the outline of a castle was visible, not that far away. Right. Needs must when the devil vomits in your kettle, as her auntie Hettie used to say. Usually accompanied by cackling.

Polly hitched her bag up and started walking a little faster, boots squelching rhythmically.

***

The castle _loomed_. It was the largest building Polly had ever seen. She was used to the low, thatched-roofed houses at Munz: their inn was one of the largest buildings there, having two floors _and_ an attic. But compared to this castle the Duchess was a doll's house.

She stood outside the huge, massive, imposing stone walls, and felt significantly small. But that was probably intentional, wasn't it? Making sure the peasants knew their place. The problem was that it was working, and Polly would have preferred avoiding the equally imposing wooden doors and going straight to the stables, stay there until the rain eased up. But what would the people who lived in the castle do if they found a gi- a _boy_ hiding in their haystacks?

If there were people in the castle. It looked very dark inside.

Polly tentatively raised her hand and knocked. Even she couldn't hear it over the rumble of the thunder, let alone the people inside. She stepped back a little. Maybe there was some kind of bell she could -

The door creaked open. Polly blinked and stepped inside. It was dark, all she could see was the stone beneath her feet, the dark outline of a staircase. No people around, but someone must have opened the door, right?

She took another few steps and peered into the shadows. "Hello?"

The door fell closed with a loud bang. Polly turned, unnerved, but there was still no one around.

"Hello?' she tried again. "Not an intruder, just looking for a dry place to spend the night. Is anyone _blarghl_."

Her hand fumbled for her rapier as the, the _thing_ suddenly lurched forward. It didn't look human. Or maybe, yes, it looked like _several_ humans, as if someone had put the spare parts together and hoped for the best.

"Um," Polly said, hand on the handle of her rapier. Even if the thing had a face like a squashed dog, that didn't necessarily mean it was up to something. You couldn't help how you looked, after all. "Sorry about that,” she said. “You, erm, startled me."

The thing gave a grunt and something that could be a reproachful look – although with a face like that, you couldn't really be sure – and it turned on its heel, beckoning her. She followed, leaving a trail of mud and water behind.

"I was just looking for a place out of the rain," she said. "I could sleep in the stables, no problem."

Another non-committal grunt. Would he be the only one left here? Some kind of caretaker? Or was he taking her to the master of the house? That was probably more likely. Lords and ladies had butlers and servants and things, hadn't they? Although she couldn't think why anyone would ever willingly hire the... _person_ currently lurching in front of her.

He stopped in front of a smooth wooden door and opened it. The warm glow of a fire shone inside, and Polly realised suddenly how _cold_ and _wet_ she was. She shivered. The... _servant_ waved her inside with something that could be a smile.

 _Could also be a leer_ , Polly thought, but she stepped inside all the same. Right now getting warm and dry again was the only thing that mattered.

She looked around the room. For a moment she wondered if she'd been just led into an empty room, but then she spotted the shadowy figure in the far corner.

"Thank you, Igor," a voice said. She – or he? Hard to tell – sounded posh. But, well, they had to be, hadn't they? To live in a place like this.

Igor gave another grunt and closed the door. Polly edged closer to the fire.

"Welcome to the castle," the voice said, sounding bored 'Are you – oh."

Polly squinted into the shadows. She could just about make out a shape, a shoulder, a face...

"You're a _girl_ ," the person in the shadows said, wonderingly.

Damn. Spotted. And so quickly too. Polly squared her shoulders. "So?"

"Oh, just that most visitors tend to be men.' The shadowy figure took a step closer. Polly could see pale skin, an oddly tight skirt. "It gets boring quite easily."

"Well, glad to be of service."

"Are you?' The figure finally stepped into the light. It was a woman, not much older than Polly, wearing a tight-fitting velvet dress. She smiled, revealing a neat row of very white teeth. "That's nice. I'm Maladicta."

"Polly," she said. "Polly Perks."

"And why, Polly Perks – damn," and here Maladicta had to stop and pull her skirt from the chair on which it had snagged. "Sorry. So, why are you wearing men's clothes?"

"Safer to travel as a boy than as a girl alone, ma'am.' Polly cocked her head, curious. "How did you know?"

"Just Maladicta. And you're surprisingly convincing, although..." Maladicta's eyes travelled slowly down. "You might want to consider stuffing a rolled-up stocking down your pants in the future."

"Why would I – Oh. Huh. Hadn't thought about that _._ "

“Obviously,” Maladicta said, sounding amused. “Well, I suspect you're hungry?”

Right on cue, her stomach gave a loud grumble. “Well, yes, although I'm mostly _cold_ right now, ma- Maladicta.”

“Well.” The woman smiled again. It was a nice smile, even if there was something a little off about it. “Let's get you warm then, shall we?”

***

Polly stared at the collection of clothes, hands on her hips. They were all dresses.

It wasn't until you spent several days in trousers that you realised just how impractical skirts were. Besides, all the dresses seemed to be cut for someone a lot more... _feminine_ than Polly could ever hope to be. Not even the corset lying invitingly on the bed would be able to create enough cleavage to fill one of those gowns.

Polly sighed and opened the door again. Igor was lumbering along some yards away. “Excuse me,” Polly said politely.

Igor turned. “Yeth?”

“Erm.” She blinked, tried to chase away the impression that she was talking to several people at once. It was the eyes that bothered her the most, one bright blue, the other deep brown. “I think the clothes won't fit.”

“Ah. Mithreth thaid to look at the dretheth on the left thide. The corset thould fit ath well.”

Polly took a few seconds to translate that sentence. _Mistress_ was not a nice word to hear from Igor. But... “You didn't lisp on corset,” Polly said suspiciously.

A strange look that could, possibly, be interpreted as guilty crossed Igor's face. “Thorry. Thometimeth I forget, you know how it is. Ith. Do you need a hand with the corthet?”

And _that_ was enough to put a stop to any other thought processes. “No thanks, I'll manage,” Polly said brightly. She closed the door again.

The corset seemed to glare at her. She manfully – _womanfully_ , her mind supplied – ignored it and went back to the wardrobe. There were two or three dresses that looked a little less ambitious on the cleavage-front. She pulled one out. Sky blue, quite pretty if you cared for that sort of thing, which Polly didn't.

She draped the dress over the bed and started stripping off her sodden clothes. There were underclothes in a dresser, soft and white. Polly suspected even one of those would cost at least a months wages.

She put them on, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, and wriggled inside the corset. She pulled the laces as loose as they would go, but it was still a whole lot tighter than what she was used to. Especially after no corsets _at all_ for the last few days. The dress fitted awkwardly too, too tight in some places and too loose in others, but at least it was dry.

Her stomach grumbled again. Time for dinner.

***

Maladicta raised an eyebrow when Polly came down the stairs. “You look very...”

Polly ran a self-conscious hand through her short hair, and then dropped it again. “I don't really care what I look like.”

“Really? How very unladylike of you.”

“Must be the trousers,” Polly said, deadpan. “Keep them on to long and you even start to _think_ like a man.”

“Hm. Although if you ask me, it wouldn't be a _bad_ thing if men cared a bit more what they looked like.” Maladicta wrinkled her nose fastidiously. “You still look _far_ more attractive than most of my previous guests.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Maladicta stepped aside, making room for Polly. “Please,” she said graciously. She gently guided Polly down a hall, one hand at the small of her back. Was that normal? It felt a bit too intimate for someone she had only known for less than an hour.

Maladicta pushed a door open and revealed a large, lavish dining room, with a long polished table and -

Polly frowned. “Why would you do that?”

“Sorry?” Maladicta asked, sounding honestly confused. Well, good, the woman was getting a little too smug for Polly's taste.

“Put the plates at either sides of the table. You can barely hear each other that way.”

“It's... tradition,” Maladicta said weakly.

“Well, it's bloody stupid, if you ask me.” And then she realised she wasn't in her own inn now, but in someone else's home, and she was probably being rude. “But if you like it that way,” she added sheepishly.

Maladicta shook her head. “No, you're right, it _is_ stupid. I just never thought... _Igor!_ ”

“Yeth, Mithtreth?”

Polly whirled around. “How did you do that?” she asked, accusingly. “You weren't there before!”

“No, Mith,” Igor said patiently, which wasn't an answer.

Maladicta turned to him. “Igor, can you re-set the table, please? I'd like to sit a bit closer to Miss Perks.”

“But - "

“No arguments, Igor.”

He sighed. “Yes, mithtress.” He plodded off.

Maladicta watched him go with narrowed eyes. “It might just be me, but there's something... off about this Igor,” she said.

“More than just one thing,” Polly replied, eyes on Igor's legs, which were not the same length. Hence the lurch. “Wait. What did you mean, _this_ Igor?”

Maladicta turned back to Polly. “It's a bit complicated, but think of them as a... species. Clan.”

“You mean there's more out there?” Polly said flatly.

“Ye-es, we have one at home, we only hired this one recently. But there's something a bit odd about him.”

“A _bit_?”

“Shush now.”

Igor came back and gave a stiff bow. “Anything else, Mithreth?”

“No thank you, Igor. You can bring the first course now, please.”

Igor gave another nod and lurched out again. Maladicta offered Polly an arm and a matching charming smile. “Shall we?”

***

There were five courses, each equally delicious. Polly felt vaguely disloyal to the Duchess – the inn, not the woman – but she had to admit she'd never tasted anything better. Not even the slightly suspicious meat which both Igor and Maladicta assured her was _lamb_ spoiled her enjoyment.

But not even food this good was enough to make her ignore the fact that her hostess wasn't eating. Besides, Maladicta was... weird.

It was almost as if she was flirting with Polly, although she couldn't be entirely sure. _Flirting_ , in Polly's experience, consisted of a slap on the arse and a slurred _alright, darlin'?_ And she knew how to deal with that. Part of why she put on the trousers was to avoid that kind of thing, but annoying as it was, she could handle it. She had developed a whole range of techniques to deal with it, ranging from making a joke of it to whacking them with a broomstick, and it worked, most of the time.

But there was no arse-slapping and endearments here. Instead, the woman kept giving Polly slight smiles and compliments and the occasional penetrating stare, and it left Polly feeling oddly flustered.

Maybe this was just a nobby way of being polite. Or maybe it was some kind of wishful thinking on Polly's part, because there was something about Maladicta that was oddly attractive. She had a way with words and a dark sense of humour and she was quite handsome too, with her widow's peak and straight nose and graceful neck and surprisingly full -

Polly wrenched her eyes back to Maladicta's face, cheeks heating up. The woman smirked lazily. Yep, flirting.

She knew what to do men. But what the heck were you supposed to do with a _woman_ who leered at you?

***

After the excellent dessert Igor served Polly a cup of tea that chased away the last remaining chill in her bones. The food had left her pleasantly drowsy.

“So why are you travelling? Where are you going?” Maladicta asked.

Polly briefly closed her eyes and remembered.

It hadn't been a spur-of-the-moment thing, no fleeting fancy. It was more like a creeping growing realisation that if she stayed where she was, with the rules and the constant scrutiny and the _Abominations_ , she'd either lose her mind or do something drastic enough to get both her and her family in serious trouble. So she had found a replacement to do the serving and cleaning in the inn, adjusted a few of Paul's clothes, cut her hair and left. It had been almost shockingly easy.

And as for where she was headed... “Ankh-Morpork,” she said, opening her eyes again. “It's supposed to be the center of the world, isn't it?”

Maladicta pulled a face. “Depends on your definition, I suppose. But it's a lively city, I'll grant you that.”

Polly nodded. “It sounded like the be- “ She yawned, hugely. “Best choice,” she finished, a little embarrassed.

“Forgive me,” Maladicta said graciously. “You are tired. I have been selfish, but I do get so few guests like you, you see.”

“Like me?” Polly said sleepily.

“Interesting. Original. Intelligent.” Maladicta stood up and added, before Polly could react, “Let me show you to your room.”

“Thanks,” Polly replied, feeling a little thrown.

She followed Maladicta to the hall. The woman had a strange way of moving, almost as if she was floating. The gracefulness was slightly spoiled when she accidentally swept against a suit of armour and only her quick outflung arm prevented it from falling. Polly could hear her mutter something, but it was too soft to make out.

Maladicta went up the stairs, candelabra held aloft, making the shadows dance on the walls. They skipped and flowed and –

Polly froze mid-step. Maladicta paused and looked over her shoulder. “Is there something the matter?”

"Your shadow is doing the can-can," Polly said flatly.

“What?” Maladicta said, still staring at Polly. “Oh.” She turned around and frowned at her shadow, which was indeed kicking out its legs in a gleeful dance. Maladicta snapped her fingers and the shadow went back to mirrorring its owner. She turned back and smiled. Maybe it was supposed to be comforting, but the candle light glinted of her incisors. “Sorry about that. The... walls are oddly shaped, they reflect the light strangely sometimes.”

Which must have been the weakest excuse Polly had ever heard. “Lucky you pointed that out, I might have thought it was just my imagination otherwise.”

Maladicta cringed. “Yes. Wouldn't want you to think that it's all just your imagination.” She turned back and went further up the stairs. This time Polly did catch one or two words of the angry muttered speech, _stupid_ and _never manage_.

Strange.

Maladicta stopped in front of Polly's door. “Here we are.”

Polly put her hand on the doorknob. ”Thank you for the meal, and the clothes. I'm sorry I can't repay you.”

“Maybe you will,” Maladicta said softly. And then she blinked and shook her head. “I mean, you're my guest and I'm only glad to offer you my hospitality. If there's anything you need, just pull the bell cord and Igor will be with you.”

“Right,” Polly said, deciding there and then she would steer clear of that bell. Igor might not be dangerous but his was still not a face you wanted to see in the middle of the night. “Goodnight then. Maladicta.”

“Sweet dreams, Miss Perks.” She turned and left in a sweep of skirt. Polly kept looking at her until she was out of sight. Only then did she turn and enter her room.

Her windows were open, diaphanous curtains fluttering. Polly closed them very firmly, double-checked the latch, and started looking for a chair to shatter.

***

It happened shortly after midnight. The door opened with a tiny little creak. Polly pretended to roll over and wriggled her hand underneath her pillow.

A soft rustle of clothing. Something that could be a footstep, quiet and subtle. Polly's fingers tightened around the smooth wood. Any second now she would –

A loud crash, followed by a very audible 'Oh, _bugger_."

Polly jumped up and turned up the gas light. Maladicta was sitting on the floor in a puddle of skirt, looking severely disgruntled. "Damn hemlines," she muttered, and then she looked up at Polly. And at the pointy broken-off chair leg in her hand. "Well. Worked that one out, did you?"

"Oh please," Polly said, eyes narrowing. "The lack of eating? The suspiciously red so-called _wine_? The _dancing shadow_? How stupid do you think I am?"

"I don't think you're stupid at all.' Maladicta got laboriously back to her feet. "I wouldn't be here if I thought that."

“Stay back.” Polly waved her stake threateningly. “You can flatter all you want, I'm not letting you near me.”

Maladicta sighed. "Look, Polly, I realise you might find this hard to believe but I'm not here to kill you. Or even hurt you."

"Really. So you sneaked into my room under the cover of night just to have a little _chat_ , did you?"

Maladicta grinned. "Depends on your definition of _chat_."

Polly took a deep breath. She had the feeling Maladicta was toying with her. It sounded like a very vampire thing to do. On the other hand, how much threat could someone who tripped over their own feet be, really?

"Polly. There's really no point. I'm a lot stronger and faster than you are, I could get that stake from you in two seconds flat."

"Then why don't you?"

“Because you seem very fond of it,” she said, smirking.

“I'll be even more fond of it once it's embedded in your chest.”

“ _Now_ who's being murderous?”

“It's self-defence.”

Maladicta gave a put-upon sigh. “I'm not going to kill you. I haven't killed anyone in _months_.”

Polly gave her a blank look. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

Maladicta took a few steps closer. Polly opened her mouth and sang, at the top of her voice: “ _Each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings, Nuggan made their glowing colors, so you'd better be thankful or else - “_

Maladicta waved her arms, her face scrunched up in pain. “Alright, _alright_ , stop the hymns, please.”

Polly folded her arms and glared at the vampire. “I'm not planning on ending my life as a snack in some old damp castle, understood?”

“ _I'm not here to kill you_.” Maladicta ran her hand through her long dark hair. “I just – I really did want to talk to you. I said it before, you're _interesting_. You wear trousers and you cut your hair and you act like a man like it's nothing, and – ”

“And what?”

Maladicta sighed and dropped down on the bed, at Polly's feet. “Do you know what it's _like_ , being a female vampire? When I'm at home I spend almost all my time in the attic, cackling in an underwired nightdress and snacking on whoever they send my way. I thought taking care of the holiday home would be different, but it's just - “ She waved a long-fingered hand. “More of the same. Lost farmers and tradesmen and the occasional adventurer, but all they see is a dangerous-looking woman all alone in an empty castle, wearing a low-cut velvet dress. They _expect_ things.”

“You think you're the only one?” Polly snapped. Something about the vampire's self-pitying litany had rubbed her the wrong way. “I'm a _barmaid_. Do you want to know how many fingers I've crushed underneath a pewter tankard? How many times men tried to grab me? What they called me when I pulled them off?”

Maladicta blinked. She looked fairly stunned, but like she said, people _expect_ things. And young girls aren't expected to lecture vampires.

“But you always pulled off, didn't you?” Maladicta asked, something... strange in her eyes. “Even when they were alright-looking? Charming?”

“Of course I did. Did you?”

The vampire grinned. ”Oh, don't worry. Most of the time I just chatted with them over dinner, sneaked into their bedroom for a quick nip while they were asleep, and then I'd send them on their way again the day after with a basketful of spinach. Iron deficiency, " she added. “Eating leafy vegetables helps, apparently.”

“So that's what you're here for, is it?” Polly raised her stake again. “A _quick nip_?”

“Well, partly.”

“And the other part?”

Maladicta tilted her head. Her eyes fell half-closed and her smile was... well. _Alluring_ was the word. “Let's just say that sometimes I don't mind doing the whole wanton-seductress-of-the-night thing.”

Polly blinked. “What do you - “

Oh.

 _Oh_.

"But we're both women," Polly said, mind still reeling. "How would that even _work_?"

Maladicta winked. "Would you like me to show you?' She edged a little closer and Polly waved her stake again.

"No! Well, maybe. Wait!"

Maladicta raised her hands and sat back, giving Polly room to think.

Alright, what could she do? She could try to stake the vampire, but if what she said was true she would probably only enrage Maladicta and quite possibly end up dead. Or she could try to beg out of it, politely, but that might annoy Maladicta and once again she might end up with a set of teeth in her jugular. Or she could just - _lie back and think of Borogravia_ , and hope that Maladicta had been telling the truth and wouldn't try to kill her, which was actually quite unlikely. So every scenario Polly could think of ended in her potential grisly death.

But while she was thinking another part of her had stood up and started clamouring for attention. It wasn't a part Polly had heard before, and right now it was asking if it wouldn't be _nice_ to reach out and touch Maladicta's throat and her hands and do something...? Although the _something_ wasn't very defined. Polly had the sort of imagination that got her into trouble more often than not, but for once it came up short.

She licked her lips and tried to align her common sense with that... other bit. She finally settled on _All right_ , _but let's do this sensibly_.

She turned back to Maladicta, who gave her an encouraging smile. “So why would I believe you won't kill me?” Polly asked.

“Then why didn't I kill you from the moment you stepped inside?”

“Same reason you have very large windows and lots of mirrors?”

Mal laughed. “Well, yes, point taken. But there are precedents, in case you're wondering. These kind of things generally last longer than just one night. Repeated mysterious nightly visits?”

Polly smirked. “It would have been a whole lot more mysterious if you hadn't tripped over your own feet, though.”

“Yes.” Maladicta rubbed her neck. Polly found she liked her a whole lot more when she wasn't being superior and all-knowing and seductive. “I don't know why but I never got used to long skirts.”

“Right. So-o...” Polly winced. She hated being new at something. “Um. What happens now?”

Maladicta's eyes fell half-closed and she put her hand on Polly's nape. Her fingers were cool against her skin. “I believe a kiss is traditional.”

“Right.”

Maladicta leaned in.

It wasn't like it was Polly's first kiss. A couple of months ago she had finally given in to one of the boys that always made googly eyes at her. Teddy had nice teeth and a good smile and he didn't push when she said no, so he was a sensible choice, really. She'd pulled him to the stables and let him put his hand under her shirt, and he had kissed her, and it had been wet and sloppy and slightly disgusting. Polly had grown bored after maybe two minutes and pushed him off.

Teddy was to Maladicta what the local folk singer was to a full-scale symphonic orchestra.

There was a small noise – but no, that was her, she was making that small noise that sounded like a begging dog – and Maladicta eased off and leaned back.

Polly's lips were tingling. “That's...”

“Yes.” Maladicta leered. “It's part of the vampire package. Good sense of style, low tolerance for daylight, damn good kisser.”

And maybe it was the trousers talking, but Polly decided she wanted more of that and lunged. Only Maladicta's hand slipped on the silk sheets and she landed flat on her back, Polly crushed against her, mouths meeting clumsily.

Maladicta's hand found the hemline of Polly's ridiculous nightdress and started pulling, fingers cool against the side of Polly's knee, and Polly's stomach flipped. She reached down and closed her hand around Maladicta's wrist. “Wait,” she said.

Maladicta closed her eyes with a pained expression. “ _Please_ don't tell me you've changed your mind.”

Polly squinted down at the pale face beneath her. “And if I had, what would you do?”

“Leave as politely as I could and take a quick swim in the moat.”

“It's _frozen_.”

“ _Yes_.” Maladicta opened her eyes again. In the soft light of the candles they were very dark. “I wouldn't hurt you, Polly,” she said softly. “I really wouldn't.”

“Good.” Polly sat up and Maladicta groaned.”Get up then.”

“Alright,” the vampire said, clambering up again.

“Because if we're going to do this we might as well do it properly.”

Maladicta paused. “Sorry?”

“Your _dress_. It looks like it takes hours to take off. I'm not going to fumble my way through that, alright? So stand up and I'll give you a hand.”

Maladicta stood up, still looking bemused. Polly got up and started undoing the laces of Maladicta's dress. It struck her how _little_ the vampire was. More than half a head shorter than Polly, but somehow she hadn't noticed before.

“You're quite authorative,” Maladicta said.

“Is that a vampire-way of telling me I'm bossy?”

“Yes. Not that I'm complaining.”

Polly smiled. She slid the velvet dress from Maladicta's shoulders and stared at the corset beneath. She tried to wriggle a finger beneath the tight laces and failed. “How do you _breathe_ in this thing?”

“I don't.”

“Ah,” Polly said weakly. “That explains it. Um, are you very fond of this?”

“I'm _really_ not.”

“Good. Hold on a moment.” Polly left Maladicta standing where she was and went to the dresser, where she found a pair of glinting scissors. They looked a bit more dainty than Polly would have liked, but they would do the job.

She went back to Maladicta and started cutting through the laces.

“Are you destroying my antique priceless silk-and-satin corset?” Mal asked interestedly.

“Yes.”

“I see.” A thoughtful pause. “Can we burn it afterwards?”

Polly grinned behind Maladicta's back. “If you want, but I would keep and try to sell the bits of silk and the whalebone. Could fetch a handsome price, you know. There.” Polly snipped the last bit of lacing and pulled the corset off.

Maladicta sighed deeply. “That's better.” Polly stepped back and watched as Maladicta stripped off the rest of her underclothes. Her mouth went a bit dry.

The vampire turned around and smiled at Polly. She was slim, but not thin or bony the way Polly was, or everyone else who lived in Borogravia these days for that matter – bread consisted mostly out of sawdust, these days. But Maladicta looked... well, there was probably some fancy word for it. _Lithe_ , maybe. Petite.

“Maladicta -” she started, and stopped when she realised she didn't know what else to say.

“I prefer Mal, actually. Now the underwear's off. It's less...”

Polly looked back up at Mal's face. “Underwired nightdress and velvet and lace?”

“Yes. Basically. And speaking of nightdresses...” Mal took a step closer and ran her fingers over the delicate lace on Polly's shoulder.

Polly shrugged her off, pulled the stupid nightdress off, and tried not to feel self-conscious. It wasn't that she was embarrassed, not really, but... Well, Polly wasn't _lithe_ or _petite_ , she was just _thin_ , with hipbones and clavicles and ribs that were just a bit too visible to be attractive. Polly didn't have skin that shone like alabaster in the pale moonlight, she just had _skin_ , with calluses and the odd spot and a few scrapes on her knees and elbows.

But Mal was looking at her much like Polly had looked at the giant steak Igor had put in front of her, a few hours ago.

Mal closed the distance and kissed Polly again. It was exactly as nice as it was before, only now there was a lot more skin touching , which was... interesting. Mal's thigh pressed gently against hers and her hand was on the small of Polly's back again, other hand running through Polly's hair. Polly threw her arms around Mal's waist and tried to pull her closer.

The back of Polly's legs hit the side of the bed. “Lie down,” Mal whispered.

“Okay,” Polly squeaked, and then immediately hated herself for squeaking. “I'm not usually the wilting-maiden type, you know,” she said, getting down on the bed. “Just so you don't get the wrong idea.”

“I saw that, yes. It's usually the vampire who does the bodice-ripping, not the other way around.” Mal grinned and got on the bed, crouching over Polly. Polly put a curious hand on Mal's waist and the vampire closed her eyes with a happy sigh.

It was getting increasingly clearer to Polly that she had basically no idea what to do. And it bothered her a little, but Mal seemed to be very happy taking the lead.

 _Lie back and think of Borogravia_ , indeed. Only it wasn't _patriotism_ Polly was feeling right now.

Mal leaned down and kissed Polly's cheek, her throat, the top of her shoulder. “I realise this is usually said in a different context,” she murmured, nose against Polly's collarbone “But you can scream all you want.”

“Really?” Polly gasped, fingers twisted into Mal's dark hair.

“Oh, yes. The only one around is Igor and he's not likely to come bursting in.”

And it was probably a sign of how far gone Polly was that even the mental image of _Igor_ wasn't enough to give her anything more than a momentary pause.

Mal leaned on her elbows and went down, leaving a trail of cool kisses down Polly's stomach. “What are you - “ Polly asked. Not that she was really worried. Her thighs had fallen open almost of their own accord. Her whole body was practically rolling out the red carpet, _willing virgin ready to be debauched_. She had a vague suspicion she should be embarrassed about that but damn it, she _wanted_ this.

“Trust me, I'm a vampire, I know what I'm doing,” Mal said warmly.

“No offence, but vampires generally don't stumble over their own clothes either, so...”

Mal paused, hands on the top of Polly's thighs. “You're never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“No,” Polly conceded. “Probably not.”

Mal huffed, but then she lowered her head between Polly's legs.

She didn't scream, but it was a close thing. As it was, Polly's always-watching always-questioning mind went completely blank, room for nothing but Mal's hands on her hips, and her breath and mouth and tongue against her – and were those her _teeth_?

Polly rocked helplessly, clutching at Mal's hair with one hand, the other scrabbling at the sheets, and she'd never got what the fuss was all about before but now she did, this was _amazing_ , how did anyone ever get out of bed if you could have _this_ –

So no, she didn't scream, but only because she put two knuckles in her mouth at the crucial moment and bit down almost hard enough to break the skin. She couldn't stop the groaning, though. Or the tiny sob. Or the way she flopped down bonelessly once Mal raised her head again.

Mal crawled back up and gently pulled Polly's finger from her mouth. Her teeth had left two tiny indents. “Enjoyed yourself?” Mal asked, fitting herself against Polly's side.

“That was...” Polly stared at the ceiling. Mal's tone had been exceedingly smug but for once she didn't really mind. “That was...”

“Mindblowing? Earth-shattering? The best shag in your short human life?”

That last one nudged her back to consciousness, though. She poked Mal in the ribs. “It was the _only_ shag in my short human life so far. It's not like you have competition, so no need to get all triumphant. Maybe there are other people out there who are much better than you are.”

“Doubt that,” Mal said, smirking. “You make really nice noises, by the way. Sort of... desperate.”

Polly elbowed her again and they both went quiet. She absently petted Mal's long dark hair, and then a thought struck her. “Hey, can I do that to you?”

Mal froze.

Polly blinked. Had she said something wrong? “I'm – You don't have to if you don't want to, obviously. But I'm curious. And you'd have to tell me what to do, just a bit. I'm a quick learner, though. Mal?”

“You don't play by the rules, do you?” Mal muttered.

“Not if the rules are stupid, no.” She tried to catch Mal's eye. “Why, is this another bit of the whole velvet-and-corsets thing? You can defile all you want but you're not allowed to _be_ defiled?”

“It's all a bit fuzzy, but... Oh well, why not, damn the rules.” Mal sat up. She shifted until she was straddling Polly's thighs and then she pulled Polly up as well. “Give me your hand.”

Polly did. Mal interlaced their fingers. Her palm was cool against Polly's, fingers long and slim. Also slightly trembling. Polly peered at Mal's concentrated frown. “Are you _nervous_?”

“A bit. I, um. It's a little unusual.”

And the last tiny hard bit of ice inside Polly's soul melted. She tucked a strand of Mal's hair behind her ear and smiled. “It'll be fine.”

“Unless you're truly awful at this.”

Polly raised her eyebrow. “I have an extremely talented teacher, don't I?”

“I see you're getting the hang of this flattery business.” Mal took a deep breath, shifted position again, and gently pulled Polly's hand down between her thighs. “Careful,” she said, and then her eyes fell closed and she tilted her hips forward with a little sigh.

Polly moved her fingers a little and Mal gasped. She tried it again, lower, higher, a bit harder. In the end it wasn't different from learning any other skill, just a matter of trying and experimenting until you found the right -

Mal moaned and her free hand flew up and grabbed Polly's shoulder in a worryingly tight hold. “Did I do something wrong?” Polly asked quickly.

“No, no, you're – you're doing fine.” Mal drew in a deep shuddering breath and managed a shaky smile.

“Not that awful, then, am I?”

“You're a damn natural, Polly.”

Polly smirked. She hooked her hand around Mal's neck and kissed her again, other hand still moving. Even the slightest twitch from her fingers got a reaction from Mal, a little gasp, a moan, a cut-off curse. No wonder she had been so eager to get Polly to bed, this was intoxicating.

Mal suddenly broke the kiss and went tense. “Should I stop?” Polly asked.

“If you stop I'll swear I'll – “

Ah, so that was it. “You'll what?” Polly asked, smirking. But Mal obviously was busy with other things to talk back. She fell forward, forehead leaning on Polly's shoulder, breathing quickly. Polly tilted her head sideways and pressed her lips against Mal's. The vampire didn't reciprocate much, she just shuddered and sighed for a bit. Which, if she felt the same as Polly had before, wasn't that surprising.

It was hard to concentrate on anything much when it felt like your whole body was setting off tiny fireworks.

Eventually Mal stopped shaking. She gently pulled their still-joined hands away again. “You – “ Mal said, dazedly.

“Mindblowing?” Polly asked, singing inside. “Earth-shattering? The best shag in your short – oh, sorry, _long_ – undead life?”

Mal laughed and kissed Polly, pushed her down again on the mattress. “Cocky.”

“Pot, kettle.”

Mal snuggled back into Polly's side. It took a fair bit negotiating of pointy elbows and legs and hands, but eventually they fitted together quite comfortably.

Polly ran her fingers through Mal's long, dark hair. It annoyed her, for some reason. It didn't fit the rest of her. And it was tangled as well. Polly worked her fingers through the knots and let her mind drift a little.

She'd survived. Although that wasn't that big a surprise, to be honest. She'd felt strangely trusting towards Mal right from the moment she had stepped inside the sitting room, but she had just suspected it was some kind of spell. Vampiric aura, she had thought once the penny dropped.

It was only when she had seen the look in Mal's eyes when she promised to leave if Polly wanted her to, that she realised her trust might be justified.

Which reminded her...

“Didn't you say something about a _quick nip_?” Polly asked, because she was a curious person and she never could leave well enough alone.

Mal shifted. “Well, yes, but...” She pushed up onto her elbows and looked at Polly, for once nothing smug or superior about it. “Do you want me to?”

“Will it hurt?”

“I don't know. Some people seem to think it hurts, others... less so. It depends. I'd be careful.”

Polly put her hands on Mal's slim hips. “And you can control yourself? I won't end up, you know, drained?”

Mal snorted. “No. I'm seventy-three, I've got myself under control by now.”

“That's... a little disturbing.”

Mal grinned. “Sorry. Do you want to keep pretending I'm only nineteen? I promise I'll play along.”

“No lies,” Polly said. She frowned. “I'll probably have to borrow a neckerchief or something, people might get suspicious if I walk around with a bitemark in my neck.”

“That won't be a problem.”

“Why not?”

“There are other places to bite than your neck.”

“Ah,” Polly said. Her cheeks felt hot again. Damn Mal and her confident smile.

“So...” Mal said, dark eyes searching Polly's face.

“Fine. Go ahead. I want to know.”

Mal smirked again and dipped her head. She paused briefly with her mouth against Polly's throat – must be sensing her heartbeat, and wasn't that a strange thought. Polly pulled gently at Mal's dark hair and Mal made a quiet sound.She made her way down until she had her lips on the slight swell at the top of Polly's breast.

“Yes?” Mal asked, slightly muffled.

“Yes,” Polly said.

Mal bit down.

***

Polly opened her eyes. It was still dark, the slightest hint of daylight peeking through the heavy curtains. She wriggled, tried to get ready to start work.

Someone went _mffr._

Polly froze. Everything that had happened last night came crashing back into one big wave of disbelief and awe.

Had she really -

Had _Mal_ really -

She looked down. Mal's dark head was pillowed on Polly's chest, her slim arms around Polly's waist. And high on Polly's chest there were two tiny red pinpricks.

Polly's memories of that were mostly blurry. She remembered it had hurt, but also... It had sent roughly the same molten-gold feeling through her body again as when Mal had had her head between Polly's legs.

It had to be an abomination. Not that she'd ever heard about it, although there was an entire section of the Book of Nuggan that featured a disturbingly large list of relatives and animals you're not allowed to sleep with. But nowhere did it say it was an Abomination to sleep with a vampire. Or for a girl to sleep with another girl. Maybe they had assumed it went without saying.

Maybe they hadn't even considered it possible.

 _Well, sod them_ , Polly thought triumphantly.

“Are you wrestling with your ethical principles?” a voice asked from somewhere in the vicinity of her sternum.

“No. Well, a bit, but I'm coming out on top.”

“Good.” Mal released her death grip on Polly's ribcage and crawled up a little, until she was lying with her head on the pillow next to Polly. “Morning.”

Polly smiled. “Morning. What happens now, traditionally?”

“Well, I should have left in the night, for one thing. Leaving you confused and with suspicious marks.”

“Messed that up, then, didn't you?”

Mal grinned. “Only partly.” She looked down at Polly's chest and smiled.

“I'm not confused, though.” Polly fell back on her pillow. “I'm glad you didn't leave,” she added, a little more quiet. “I wouldn't have liked waking up alone after that.”

“Yeah, I had a suspicion you wouldn't,” Mal said drily.

Polly reached out and caught one of Mal's slim hands. “No talons?” she asked, running the tips of her fingers over Mal's palm.

“No. They kept breaking, it was annoying.”

Polly hummed and fell silent.

What now? That was the question, wasn't it? She could just leave and go back on her way to Ankh-Morpork, but the thought of leaving Mal behind was a little painful. Polly _liked_ her, even though she was arrogant and sarcastic and a bit of a know-it-all.

If this was a story – well, if this was a story, Mal would've been a _man_ , because there were no stories about two girls in the Merry Month of May, that was for sure. But if it was a story it would have ended with either of them leaving again. That was how things always went. Although, there were some songs, some stories...

“Mal?”

“Yes?”

And feeling every folk-tale convention crashing around her ears, Polly said, “Come away with me.”

Mal had obviously had the same thought. She pushed up unto an elbow and smiled at Polly. “Let me get this straight: the blonde innocent virgin is seducing the suave experienced vampire to run away with her?”

“Not a virgin anymore,” Polly pointed out, and Mal grinned wider. “Like you said, I don't play by the rules. Besides, it's December, not May. So would you?”

“Go to Ankh-Morpork with you?” Mal flopped down again. “Why not. It's something new. And I could...” Mal took a deep breath, and Polly turned to look at her. The vampire almost looked nervous. “I could take the Pledge. They've got lots of experience with Black Ribboners in Ankh-Morpork.”

“Would you? Give up blood entirely?”

“I might,” Mal said, and then, still staring at the ceiling, she added, “For you, I might.”

The Disc briefly stopped moving. Polly's heart skipped a bit. Mal turned her head and gave her a slightly worried look, as if she was afraid she'd said too much.

“Oh,” Polly said. “Good.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Although we're going to have to do something about this.” Polly tugged at a strand of Mal's dark silky hair.

Mal wrinkled her nose. “I couldn't agree more, but is there a specific reason?”

“It's a long way to Ankh-Morpork. And a lot easier to travel as a man than as a girl.”

“I'm a _vampire_.”

“And how many men do you think will be queuing outside your door for a bit of debauchery?”

“Good point,” Mal admitted. “I never liked my hair anyway, it's too much work.”

Polly reached out and found the scissors she'd used last night on her bedside table. “Sit up,” she said.

Mal sat up and swung her legs off the bed, looking a bit wary. Polly sat down on her knees behind her back and pulled Mal's hair back. She snipped off the dark mass in three satisfying cuts. It was the same technique she'd used on her own hair, but while Polly had ended up looking like a scarecrow, Mal's hair looked stylishly ruffled.

She ran her fingers through Mal's hair and the vampire made a happy noise. “Much better,” Polly said, with some satisfaction.

Mal flopped back down onto the bed and pulled Polly along. “Two boys on adventure, hm?” she said.

Polly smiled. “I'll have to borrow on of your stockings, though. I'm a bit lacking in the trouser department, as you pointed out.”

“I don't think you're lacking _anything_ in your trousers.”

Polly rolled her eyes again and elbowed Mal in the side. “You have an awful sense of humour, you know.”

“Vampire. Bad puns are part of the package.”

Polly shifted until she found a good place, head pillowed beneath Mal's collarbone. “You'll have to unlearn that particular habit, though. Or else I'll end up braining you with a shovel before we even cross the Ankh.”

“Whatever you want," Mal said softly, hand on Polly's neck. Outside the sun was rising, but in here it was still peaceful and quiet and more importantly, _warm_.

“And the new day is a great big fish,” Polly muttered.

“Plogviehze,” Mal added sleepily, and snuggled closer.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Breaking Tradition (podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6246037) by [goddamnshinyrock (micaceous)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/micaceous/pseuds/goddamnshinyrock)




End file.
